


Playing Favorites

by Nefhiriel



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel (Movies), The Avengers (2012), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Awesome Pepper, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Gen, Humor, Male Friendship, Snarky Jarvis, Steve Feels, Tension, Tony Stark Feels, Tony Stark Has Issues, Tony Stark Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-01
Updated: 2013-03-01
Packaged: 2017-12-04 00:46:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/704526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nefhiriel/pseuds/Nefhiriel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>JARVIS has a new BFF.</p><p>Tony is not jealous. Nope. Not even a little bit.</p><p>Written for black_sluggard's prompt on <a href="http://avengersgen.livejournal.com/">avengersgen</a><a></a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Playing Favorites

**Author's Note:**

  * For [The Black Sluggard (Hazgarn)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hazgarn/gifts).



> For [this prompt](http://avengersgen.livejournal.com/1096.html?thread=31048#t31048):
> 
>    
>  _JARVIS winds up becoming strangely attached to one of the Avengers (or Coulson, or Darcy, or whomever), and apparently they just think he's awesome right back. Tony pretends he's not jealous that his AI has a best friend who isn't him._
> 
> Thanks to imbecamiel for invaluable beta'ing, and general aid in plotting this.

The chain of events started out deceptively innocuous. Because what could be less  _nocuous_  than breakfast? Breakfast was, like, the anti-nocuous.

Then Steve had to open his big mouth.

“Can anyone talk to him?”

“Hmm? Who?” Tony frowned. Apparently, he’d stared one minute too long into the murky depths of his coffee mug, and now Captain America was giving him a theological pop-quiz.

“JARVIS,” Steve clarified. “I mean, I know he’s a computer, and anyone can _talk_ to him—but do you mind if I ask him questions? I wouldn’t be messing anything up, or…distracting him from doing something else?”

Tony took that tongue-scalding first sip of coffee before opening _his_ big mouth. “JARVIS could out multi-task Pepper—which is saying something. Just don’t tell her I said that.” Or someone would be multitasking some _else’s_ butt into high-gear (no-Tony-board-meetings-are- _not_ -optional) mode. “Knock yourself out, Cap.”

Frankly, Tony hadn’t expected much to come of it. JARVIS was nothing if not untiringly polite, but while he might not _dislike_ him, technically, as far as “Captain Rogers” was concerned, JARVIS had thus far been in what Tony mentally cataloged as a “prim” mood. If he had a nose, he’d have been sticking it in the air.

As far as Tony could tell JARVIS’ attitude towards Steve had less to do with anything Steve had said to JARVIS, and more to do with JARVIS having witnessed some of the fallout from his argument with Steve on the Hellicarrier—though “fallout” was really putting too much of a point on it. Tony might have muttered a few things about Steve in the privacy of his lab, that was all. If those mutterings had turned into an entirely cathartic ranting session, and a blow-by-blow reenactment—with sarcasm, and air-quotes, and the whole shebang—then that was just _healthy_ venting for you. He and Steve had had an actual conversation about it all later, and last Tony had checked it was all good between the two of them. They were even kind-of-sort-of friends now.

But JARVIS was nothing if not observant, and his loyalty was unparalleled—if you ignored all the times he and Pepper, or Rhodey, had ganged up on Tony (for his own “good,” ostensibly). And all three of them appeared to consider their little “interventions” the harder part of demonstrating their loyalty. 

So when Tony started to catch snatches of conversation between Steve and JARVIS, he thought nothing of it. Mostly, Steve seemed interested in catching up on his world history, and pop culture references.

If Steve wanted JARVIS to be the one to break _Twilight_  to him, then that was Steve’s affair. Or funeral. Whatever.

But, as time went on, the conversations kept happening. Tony would pass a room, and there Steve would be sitting barefoot and cross-legged on the couch, sketchpad on his knee, and he’d be chatting it up with JARVIS like they were friends. Steve, chatting, was enough to try and digest for a while. For a quiet guy, he was a surprisingly easygoing conversationalist, and, once he _got_ going, he sounded and looked a lot younger than he seemed the rest of the time.

Still, weirdness factor aside, if Steve wanted to recount to JARVIS his fond memories of home—about a mom who knew how to put on an elaborate shadow-puppet show, and how to knit by feel rather then sight, without missing a stitch, or whatever else his favorite childhood memories might be—then that was, once again, Steve's own affair. Tony could do hands-off. He wasn’t nosey or anything. Blatantly curious sometimes, sure, but not nosey.

Then JARVIS started chatting _back_.

Tony could tell it was chatting, as opposed to polite silence-filling, because he knew JARVIS. He’d _made_ JARVIS. Moreover, this was JARVIS talking to Steve Rogers. The same Steve Rogers he’d been miffed at just a few weeks ago. Now JARVIS was practically _prattling_ about Lady Gaga, and the Occupy movement, and all the advances that had been made in ketchup bottles and packets since the 40s.

Ketchup. JARVIS was getting excited about ketchup. Tony’s blatant curiosity began to stir.

It wasn’t that Tony was against the continual advancement and renovation of ketchup and its delivery system. Because he wasn’t. The day ketchup innovation died would be the day the American Dream became stagnant.

But by the time JARVIS strayed into the deep and murky waters of fad dieting, Tony decided he preferred to maintain a certain level of blissful ignorance where “pink slime” was concerned, thank you very much.

An hour later he was wolfing down a Big Mac and fries with a passion, when Pepper walked in. She angled a critical look at him.

He curved his right arm protectively around the counter space his meal occupied, and glowered.

“Alright, Tony.” She quirked her lips sort-of-kind-of fondly, and that meant he’d won. “Comfort-food is sacred in my book. But you could just try talking to whoever just trampled your feelings. That’s what adults _do_.”

“My feelings are  _fine_ ,” he returned, peevishly. “And I don’t…comfort-food.”

“But you are creating new verbs. Hmm.” The quirk of her lips twisted further upwards.

Tony didn’t care to be analyzed, but trying to bluff Pepper was like trying to deflect missiles with a cardboard shield. Willful lies were the best policy. “I’m testing the new ketchup packets.” He held one of the “dip and squirt” packets up as proof. “So far, I give it my blessing.”

“I’m sure everyone at Heinz just breathed a collective sigh of relief.” She snagged two french fries faster than Mister Miyagi himself could’ve killed a fly with chopsticks. Then she proceeded to do a nifty little side-step out of his reach _without_ tripping over her high-heels, and simultaneously managed to make stuffing fries in her mouth look _not_ disgusting. Life was full of inequities.

At least he hadn’t gotten any ketchup on his clothes—and his supersized drink was still half full. If you excluded the ridiculous amount of ice displacing actual Coke, and the way the bottom of the cup was handily smaller than the top in order to fit into a standard cup holder.

Fine. He’d settle for being a glass-one-third-full kind of guy, then. Yay optimism.

***

Steve was in full-blown _I can admit I’m wrong_ mode. With an extra helping of _one-hundred-percent made-in-America humility_ on top.

“But I must’ve done _something_ …” he urged.

“No,” Tony snipped. He didn’t have to pretend to busy with Dummy’s upgrade. He _was_ busy. And Steve and his concern were getting in the way.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

Steve hesitated. “Because you’re mad. You’re definitely mad about something.”

Tony looked up from his workbench. “And, naturally, if I’m mad, it has something to do with you? I like it as a working theory.” He moved past Steve, giving him a two-fingered prod that felt particularly feeble once it came in contact with Steve’s chest. Somehow, that made Tony seethe all the more. “But where’s your proof, _hmm_? Contrary to popular belief, the world doesn’t actually revolve around _Captain_  America, and if you ask me _one more time_  if there’s something you’ve done to make me angry I’ll—”

“—Tony?”

“ _What_?”

“You’re shouting. Which makes me think I’m not completely off base.” Steve had the nerve to not only be right, but to be amused about it, if not actually smug. Tony had yet to see Steve actually _look_  smug.

“Fine. _Okay_. Yeah, I’m mad. You got me. Congratulations.” Tony fluttered a hand dismissively, staring down at the first handy schematics he found, because it wasn’t like Steve was going to notice he’d forgotten what he was looking for, not when Steve hardly knew the use of anything in the room. _Steve_ didn’t know a thing. Not a thing. But did that stop him from barging in and sticking his nose in everyone else’s business? _Nooo_ , not at all. Not for a second did he stop to consider that— _oh, geeze, look. Not everyone goes ga-ga with hero-worship the moment I enter the room._  

Worst of all, he didn’t appear to rely on anything more than a pair of ingenuous blue eyes to endear him to anyone. Anyone at all. And apparently he had every reason to rely on those ingenious blue eyes, because the vote was in: neither man nor AI was immune.

Pepper thought he was “Incredibly nice, and down to earth” (code: “This is what a good role model looks like, Tony”). The Avengers obeyed him, andstill _liked_  him at the end of the day. Coulson was ready to swear his undying fealty.

And JARVIS _chatted_ with him.

“Look,” Steve was saying, reasonably, “if this is about the last debriefing with Director Fury…” He paused, as if hoping for actual confirmation. When Tony didn’t say anything, he continued, still reasonably, “Or the other day when I shot down your idea about training—”

“—Pick a reason, Captain. Any reason. Because as pleasant as it sounds to stand here and listen to your list of confessions, I’m _busy_.”

Steve was silent for a long time, but he didn’t leave, not even after Tony set about staunchly ignoring his presence altogether. Tony refused to be unnerved.

“JARVIS,” he snapped.

“Yes sir?”

“Music.”

“Would you prefer anything in particular, or shall I suggest a few—”

“—Just…anything. Loud.”

His plan to drown his sorrows (and drown _out_ his surroundings) backfired. In a few minutes, JARVIS launched into a minor biography about AC/DC for Steve’s benefit—and Tony watched out of the corner of his eye as Steve nodded his head and kept asking insightful, attentive questions.

“JARVIS,” he interrupted, after he’d taken nearly five minutes of it, like a martyr. A complete martyr.

“Sir?”

“Maybe you could take your friend outside and play, hmm?”

“Sir—”

“You’re mad because I talk to JARVIS,” Steve said, his voice abruptly close—too close—behind Tony.

Tony spun. A hot “ _Am not_ ,” was on the tip of tongue, but he checked himself, because denial wasn’t going to get him anywhere. Better to stick with the dismissive approach. “Alright, Cap. Time to go play psychologist somewhere else. Try Natasha. She’s always up for mind games.”

Steve just shook his head, not listening to a word he said. He peered at Tony with far too much dawning realization in his expression for Tony’s comfort. “But that’s it, isn’t it?” he insisted. “You’re jealous.”

Only Steve could make that accusation sound so purely mystified, and not malicious. Tony would’ve preferred malicious. It took two to fight, and Steve wasn’t pulling his weight.

“That’s ridiculous,” Tony mumbled, crossing his arms. “Why would I be jealous? JARVIS can pick his own friends.”

“But you made him,” Steve said quietly.

“Yeah. That was me.” He narrowed his eyes. “You have a point?”

“He’s _your_  friend.”

Tony rolled his eyes. “There’s this concept, Steve, where people can have more than _one_  friend. It’s called not being in kindergarten anymore.”

Steve smiled, ignoring the sarcasm altogether. He looked like he’d just solved all the mysteries of the universe. “But JARVIS, he means something special to you, doesn’t he? He been there for you for a long time.” He mirrored Tony, arms crossed over his chest, but everything about his posture was loose, and relaxed, and maddeningly knowing.

“I said it’s _fine_ _,_ ” Tony snapped, turning back to snatch up a wrench—and only managing to knock it to the floor in the process. He bent to retrieve it, muttering curses and resolutely not looking at Steve as he turned back to his work.

“I get it, Tony. I do. And…I’m sorry.”

No excuses. No addendums.

Tony gritted his teeth, struggling against the impulse either to retort or apologize back—because his innate need to one-up people just never let up, even when it came to being sorry about something.

He wasn’t sure what was on the tip of his tongue when he turned around, but it didn’t matter because Steve had already left.

An uncomfortable weight settled in his chest. It wasn’t guilt, exactly. He just hated the sound of his own attempts to justify his anger to himself. _Selfish_. There was no other term for him begrudging a friend _other_ friends. (Because Steve was right: JARVIS had been there so long. AI or not, he was a _friend_.)

And despite his own retort about not being in kindergarten anymore, Tony knew that Steve had seen right through him to the heart of the matter. He had been jealous. _Was_ jealous. He hadn’t had many real friends over the course of his life, but JARVIS had always been one of the few who stuck with him, no matter what. It was  _hard_  to see him… not shifting, but expanding his loyalties.

It struck him how painfully meager Steve’s own list of friends had to be. Practically everyone he’d known was dead, after all. For him, every relationship was a matter of forging something new, rebuilding a life’s worth of acquaintances.

None of which contributed to making Tony feel like the world’s most selfish jerk ever. Not at all.

Tony sat down heavily on the nearest stool.

 “Sir,” JARVIS broke in on his thoughts. “If I may, I believe I have some information relevant to your discussion with Captain Rogers.”

Tony turned the stool towards the desk with a half-hearted twirl. “What is it, JARVIS?”

“Captain Rogers and I have been exchanging information…”

“Noteworthy ketchup news, and the literary profundity of our generation, I know,” Tony grumbled.

“Among other things,” JARVIS agreed. “But you may be interested to know, Sir, that Captain Rogers’ primary motivation for approaching me with questions generally involved rather more complicated motivations.”

“More complicated motivations?” Tony echoed blankly.

“On more than one occasion, the Captain expressed concerns for your welfare.”

Tony blinked. “My welfare?”

“I believe at the time you had gone several days without leaving the lab.”

Tony gave a dismissive “pfft” at that. “Several days? That’s nothing.”

“Indeed, Sir. I relayed as much to him, and assured him that you were merely focused on a project and would eventually emerge of your own accord.”

Tony shrugged. “Okay? So?”

“Captain Rogers has had many similar questions regarding your more _eccentric_  habits, Sir.”

“Get a good laugh out of it, did he?” Old behaviors—like being a petty jerk who expected the worst of people—died hard.

“Sir.” JARVIS always sounded serious, but now he sounded solemn. “I would never participate in, or contribute to, a conversation intended to ridicule you. The Captain made his concern abundantly clear, and none of his questions seemed to me to be driven by anything but a sincere desire to understand your motivations.”

“Oh.” That made him feel a _lot_  better about himself. Or not. “JARVIS…”

“You’ll find Captain Rogers in the kitchen, Sir.”

“Who says I want to talk to him? I just got rid of him.”

“Given the Captains regular habits, he’ll likely have left for the gym if you wait much longer.”

“I don’t do groveling, JARVIS.”

“Judging by the Captain’s parting tone, Sir, I believe you will find him easily amenable to the slightest attempt at reconciliation.”

“Amenable, huh?”

“Quite, Sir.”

“I take it you’ve changed your mind about him, then.”

“Sir?”

Tony sighed and turned towards the door, decision made. “Fine, have it your own impassive way. Initiate operation ‘ _reconciliation_.’”

Steve was still in the kitchen, using a serrated bread knife to slice a sandwich on the diagonal. He looked up at Tony’s entrance, and smiled pleasantly, for all the world as if their heated “conversation” hadn’t taken place at all.

Tony cleared his throat and leaned against the edge of the countertop. “So, JARVIS spilled the whole story. You’ve been gossiping about me. Behind my back. In my own house.” It was a pretty rotten start as far as reciprocating amenableness. It didn’t even resemble groveling.

But Steve didn’t divert from being casually conversational. “You and I, we’ve clashed from day one.” As if the fact _needed_  refreshing.

“And we certainly do know how to keep the chemistry alive.”

Steve’s wry expression didn’t disagree. “Look…I just wanted to understand where you were coming from. To know a little more about who Tony Stark really was. I figured JARVIS would know you better than anyone.”

Tony narrowed his eyes at Steve, trying to discern his motives to no avail. Steve simply stared back, an open book of earnestness that looked as far from shifty or underhanded or backstabbing as it was possible for a human being to look.

Steve might be a lot of things, but even Tony couldn’t imagine him coming to JARVIS to get some kind of ammunition against Tony. And moreover, Tony definitely couldn’t imagine JARVIS giving it to Steve, even if Steve had come looking for dirt. JARVIS was perfectly capable of detecting motives.

“I’m sorry if it seemed like I was going behind your back. It wasn’t my intention to trick JARVIS into any disloyalty.”

Tony didn’t like feeling mortified, and he refused to feel mortified now, even if Captain America was standing there, figurative hat in hands, saying how sorry he was for  _caring_ enough to try to understand the way Tony’s mind worked.

Fine. Okay. He was a little…disconcerted by it all. Not least because Steve looked so ridiculously sheepish.

But there was still hope of getting out of this situation with “Hey, it’s okay”s, and without “I forgive you”s, or (God forbid) any hugging.

“It wasn’t premeditated,” Steve continued. “I didn’t start coming to JARVIS with the intention of spying on you, or anything like that. After I started asking him questions—about innovations, and Stark Industries, and the Tower—things naturally came around to…you. It’s—”

“—I get it, I get it.” Tony held up a hand. He scratched absently at the back of his neck. “I, ah…may’ve been a little off-base.”

Steve waited patiently.

“And a little…reactionary, too,” Tony conceded. “I mean, look. Far be it from me to accuse Captain America of espionage…” God, but his improv comedian skills were suffering today. He cleared his throat. “Is there even a remote possibility we could just forget about the whole thing?” He let apology creep into his expression, just a little.

“Turn over a new a leaf?”

“Exactly.” Tony refused to plead. “New leaf. That would be awesome.”

“We could do that.”                                                                                              

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

There was no hugging. But a new leaf was turned, and further questioning revealed that JARVIS hadn’t turned Steve against fast food, or led him down the path of conversion to Team Edward, and all was safe (and approved by Captain America) on the ketchup front. So all was pretty okay with the world.


End file.
